The rain gave all it got to the parched city of Havana. A season, a monsoon, an ocean’s worth – still the city downed it all. Just like the traveller’s dreams.
Droplets splashed in the house too, but the roof wasn’t leaking. The traveller grunted as he worked himself to the bone, catching up on all the pushups he’d promised himself at the new year. There wasn’t much else to do, and it kept the mind occupied. It was a familiar feeling – yet another eve of a scheduled flight – but foiled yet again by the powers that be.
The traveller had started running out of money, and his clothes had taken on a cardboard-like feel from all the repeated hand-washes he’d been forced to do. Thankfully his hosts were providing him some meals now, and still changing his bedsheets every other day. gratis. He didn’t know how to tell them he wouldn’t be able to repay all their kindness.
The rain pounded on.
Hey you ok? Have you got your passport back yet? – er I think a more pertinent question is, given that spring break ends in about 24 hours’ time – are you back at where you ought to be?
Sometimes, kindness need not be repaid to the same people who showed it to you. One throws a coin, a note, then disappears into the crowd. Another is the unseen hand. Or Daddy-long-legs.
I don’t think you’ll be in a hurry to go back to Cuba once you get outa there but who knows? Maybe someday, you just might repay them in some ways. Just not today. Not yet.